Paper Planes
by Autumn Win-Dow
Summary: Kitsu was never a fan of drama – he only managed to escape it all one time, when he jumped out of the classroom window and flew away. All he wanted to do was let paper planes fly around the room, just like the old days.


_**Paper Planes**_

**By Autumn Win-Dow**

* * *

Kitsu was never a fan of drama.

Ever since he had watched the drama unfold between Mikan Sakura and Natsume Hyuuga, immediately followed by the bloodshed and terror of the Alice War, he never really appreciated the idea of drama as it interfered in people's lives without permission.

It was suffocating enough for him to even _watch _it happen, and he sincerely prayed to himself that he wouldn't be served with a slice of arguments, conflict and pessimism any time soon.

However, as the kid in the classroom who always observed, along with his best friend Koko, he was eventually brought into these conflicts unwillingly. He often tried to make attempts to escape whenever someone unintentionally dragged him into a decision-making argument, but Sumire – the girl he often liked to call 'the drama-eating monster' – would keep him in place with her profound and unnatural strength.

He had only managed to escape the drama one time, when he not-so-daringly jumped out of the classroom window and flew away. Kitsu could recall the pleas of Koko of whom wanted to go with him, as he struggled in Sumire's ferocious grip. Even though his means of fleeing was rather extravagant, he still didn't regret it – even when he was scolded as soon as he returned to class.

As he – now a seventeen year old student – collapsed on the couch in the safe conformities of his dorm, he longed for the old days. Kitsu couldn't help but reminisce in his childhood memories – when the drama in the classroom was limited to Natsume and Ruka's friendly fight over Mikan's affections, and when they were too young to even consider relationships. He could remember the everyday scene of the classroom back when you and your classmates were in Elementary school – Hotaru reading silently as her inventions roamed the area, Sumire and Wakako's swooning over Natsume and his aloofness, Koko speaking out people's thoughts without permission, the birds and squirrels flocking at the window, where Ruka stood. Meanwhile, Kitsu watched the ongoing scenes from a high point in the classroom – his Alice allowed him to levitate in the air and he always became the observer, which was in fact something which hadn't changed since then.

When he wasn't watching, however, he often made paper planes and let them fly around the classroom. Some would hit the back of Sumire's head as she swooned over Natsume, and then she would chase after him – her speed comparably as fast as a cheetah.

He had developed a particular fondness for paper planes. They were inventions which – unlike the intricate crafts Hotaru worked on during sleepless nights – only took a minute to create, and only needed one piece of equipment. And despite their utter simplicity, they were able to function immediately.

It was a strange thought, but sometime he – as a flying person – envied paper planes. Because their creation was simple, and meaningless of their surroundings and possible vandalism of their wings, they were still able to slice through the air and fly across the room. Despite all that occurred around it, it was still able to function.

Also, no one would want to pour out all of their feelings to a piece of strangely folded paper.

In a sudden feeling of need, he sat up straight on his couch and grabbed the first piece of paper he saw. Despite it being the first page of his Maths homework which Jinno-sensei had given out to the class, he didn't think twice when he placed it on the table and neatly folded the two corners.

Even though he couldn't recall the last time he made a paper plane, the process in making it came in to Kitsu's mind as something second nature to him. He didn't have to think about what to fold next, as his fingers acted in response to each previous step, and eventually the complex permutation questions were now odd markings of a plane's wing.

It was a simple paper airplane which he held in his hands, but he felt enlightened by its creation. He was able to make it with any piece of paper – even the torturous Mathematics sheet with numbers which he could never be able to decipher – and under any circumstances.

However, when he let the paper plane fly across the room, he couldn't help but feel bitter. He watched the paper object as it flew for a few seconds, before falling to the ground and lifelessly sliding against the carpet until it eventually made light contact with the wall.

The movement of the plane was lifeless. He didn't feel satisfied at all, even after throwing it across the room.

It was then when Kitsu decided that things had in fact changed – that maybe, the plane didn't have as much significance to him as it did many years ago. He couldn't feel the same enjoyment he did when he was ten years old, as it levitated in mid-air, and he figured that it was because things had changed.

Even though the functioning of a plane didn't change because of its surroundings, the way he viewed it did.

Kitsu could only scoff. He questioned yourself as to why he had briefly forgotten that he was no longer a child – he was now a late teen, with problems in life, as well as a completely lifeless dorm room.

It was why he stormed forward and grabbed the paper plane in his hands, before tossing it in the dustbin. However, he couldn't help but look back at the plane.

_What the hell am I doing?_

Without a second thought, he instinctively picked the plane back up, only to walk into class the next day with it in his hand. Kitsu halted in his steps as he watched his classmates talking animatedly, before allowing his wrist to snap forward and letting the plane soar.

In two seconds, the plane sped over the whole classroom, and successfully hit the head of his intended target.

Sumire.

And as he had hoped, she stood up and stormed towards him in a fit of frustration, about to give chase.

_Maybe this was what I missed._

* * *

**_A/N: Yeah, I don't know. Perhaps, ever since I was slapped in the face by reality with the force of a raw fish, I've felt just a tad bit cynical. But hey, for the past few days, all I've been thinking about is crack and humor. Time to return to angst-this isn't even angst, but I'm rambling._**


End file.
